


No Training Wheels Left for You

by ralsbecket



Series: earth's mightiest heroes [24]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Angst with a Happy Ending, Embarrassed Peter Parker, Flirting, Hopeful Ending, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Kid Steve Rogers, Kid Tony Stark, Las Vegas, M/M, Pre-Slash, Reconnecting in Adulthood, Song: Training Wheels (Melanie Martinez), Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28103304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ralsbecket/pseuds/ralsbecket
Summary: True to Howard’s word, the Starks never stepped foot into the MGM Grand again – that is until Tony’s purposeful check-ins during his Las Vegas stays, more out of spite than anything else. Along the same lines, Tony never saw Steve again, either. He didn’t even know his last name. The only things Tony had to remember the skinny, blond kid by were the light scars that formed on his knees from the fall.Or, the one where Steve and Tony are best friends for a summer and find each other again years later
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: earth's mightiest heroes [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771900
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39
Collections: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange





	No Training Wheels Left for You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChocolateCapCookie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCapCookie/gifts).



> “Riding down, riding down  
> My hand on your seat  
> The whole way round  
> I carry band-aids on me now  
> For when your soft hands hit the jagged ground”  
> \- Melanie Martinez, _Training Wheels_
> 
> A/N: Thank you to [MiriamSilverhawk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriamSilverhawk) and [starkilicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkTonyCarterCollinsCarbonellRogers) for being lovely cheer readers!!
> 
> From Cookie's long prompts, this one spoke to my soul lol. I love kidfics and I'm so glad I was able to write this one~

Tony Stark was bored. _So bored_. His dad’s tech conventions were always so _boring_. They were often three weeks too long, back-to-back weekends broken up only by the occasional dinner out with investors. The Starks’ summer months were usually spent touring Morocco or vacationing in Paris or staying at their villa in Sicily. But ever since his dad’s company expanded its production outside of just military weaponry, Tony’s family vacations turned more into attending international conventions for cyber technology and medical innovations.

Sometimes Tony wasn’t sure why his parents even brought him along; he never had anything to do except for aimlessly walking around the fancy, five-star hotels that they would check into. What the heck was an eleven-year-old kid to do at a casino anyway? He left all his friends like Ty and Sunset and Whitney back at boarding school, and both of Tony’s parents were always gone whenever he’d wake up, leaving him alone in the two-story penthouse suite overlooking the Las Vegas Strip. (He couldn’t exactly remember what the name of their hotel was – the big green one with David Copperfield’s huge mug on the front – and frankly, he couldn’t care any less if he tried.)

Tony was _bored_. It felt like he’d exhausted every form of entertainment within the first week of their stay. He had surfed through mind-numbing pay-per-view programs, read through the middle-grade books he’d brought with him, spent a couple hours in the private jacuzzi, and even resorted to people-watching out on the open terrace. At some point, he thought to swipe the spare room key, which sat on the bedside table in his parents’ room, before heading for the private elevators.

The hotel lobby and shops were bustling with tourists and workers, but what caught his attention were the hundreds of sweaty bodies that crowded the slot machines and blackjack tables. Tony meandered around the casino floor, his eyes sliding back and forth between the men in visibly expensive suits and men in oversized Hawaiian shirts. The sounds of excited shouts and pinging machines and clinking glasses filled his ears, while smells of cigar smoke and heavy perfume and – skunk? Was that a skunk? – all but attacked his nostrils.

Tony hovered behind a loud woman sitting near the middle of the casino, watching as she played a slot machine, something that reminded him greatly of some Jurassic Park movie with the dinosaurs – a digitized tyrannosaurus and pterodactyl moving across the screens.

A heavy hand landed on Tony’s shoulder, and he spun around with a jolt. He came face to face – or rather, face to _chest_ – with one of the hotel security guards. His eyes flickered to his clip-on identification badge, which read _Harold_.

“Look, kid, unless you’re a really young-looking twenty-one-year-old, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the floor,” the larger man said to him.

Tony huffed indignantly, straightening up. “I’m eleventeen, thank you very much.”

“Sure, kid.” The guard’s brows knitted together as he looked around, noticing that no one who seemed responsible for Tony was in sight. “Where are your parents?”

“Probably presenting at the stupid engineer’s con in the big arena outside,” Tony grumbled, kicking the tip of his shoe on the tacky casino carpet.

“Are you…” Harold squinted at him, as if willing an answer out of the boy. “You’re not Howard Stark’s son, are you?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately.” He sighed, glancing away uncomfortably; there were fans of his dad’s everywhere, and Tony was so not looking forward to hearing him go on about how _great_ and _revolutionary_ and _genius_ his father was.

The security guard must have seen the look on Tony’s face because he cleared his throat instead. His eyes darted around briefly before jerking his head towards the direction of the front lobby. “C’mere, son.” He put a hand to Tony’s shoulder, leading him through the casino floor and in between the tables and machines.

Tony spotted one of the housekeeping ladies off to the side, pushing her cart towards the service elevators. Harold called out for her, “Sarah! Hey, I need you to do me a favor.”

The blonde woman turned around at the sound of her name. “Hi, Happy,” she greeted as the two of them approached. Her eyes fell on Tony, and she just barely masked the look of confusion on her face. “What can I do ya for, sweetie?”

“Your son around? Seems like this kid can use some company while waiting for his old man,” Harold – _Happy_ explained, clapping Tony hard enough on the back to jerk him forward.

“Oh, I’m sure Stevie should be running rampant somewhere.” Sarah wiped her hands on the front of her uniform, chuckling a bit under her breath.

“Can I leave him with you?” Happy asked, running a hand over his receding hairline. “Or can you take him back up to his suite? I’ve gotta get back to the floor.”

“I, um – well – I’ve got rooms to…”

“You’re on penthouse duty, aren’t you? He’s the Stark kid. You’re heading there anyway.”

Tony frowned slightly, shifting his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet. He kept his eyes trained on the ground, feeling a blanket of awkwardness falling over him: Even though he should have been used to it, he still hated it whenever adults talked about him like he wasn’t standing right in front of them.

Sarah opened her mouth again but stopped short, sighing. A kind smile appeared on her face as she conceded, and then she crouched down slightly to be at Tony’s eye level. “Will that be okay with you, hon?”

He blinked back at her for a moment before realizing she’d actually asked _him_ a question. Tony nodded once, sporting a small smile. “Oh. Yes, ma’am.”

Sarah smiled back slightly, and the twinkle in her eye made Tony think she was younger than he first thought. Tony also thought in that moment she must have had the most piercing blue eyes he’d ever seen in his life.

But that was before he met her son, Steve. He was a year older than Tony, but he didn’t look like any twelve-year-old he’d ever seen. Steve Rogers was this skinny little blond kid that had this air about him that instantly brightened up anyone’s day. Tony wasn’t sure how they got to talking, but once they started, they never stopped. For the next two weeks, Steve and Tony spent nearly every day together, running around the hotel and window shopping and sitting in the lobby to people-watch while Steve sketched them in a notepad.

Steve had taken Tony to the hotel food courts one day to buy some ice cream. The two of them sat in a booth, arguing over who the most powerful Pokémon was and sharing more stories about their lives. Tony talked about the many times his parents dragged him around the world – to Oslo, Norway, one summer to look at medical tech; to Dubai, UAE, one winter for some transportation upgrades; to Manila, Philippines, another time to see nanotech developments.

Before devouring his dessert, Steve nonchalantly mentioned, “My family lived there ‘til I was, like, two.”

“You _what_?” Tony squawked, eyes widening at the blond.

“Dad was stationed at one of the military bases, and my mom came with. Had me a few months later,” Steve explained, biting into his waffle cone. “But then he got re-stationed at Nellis here, and we just… never left, I dunno.”

“I bet your dad and mine would get along.” Tony turned the cone in his hand, lapping up the melted ice cream. With a light roll of the eyes, he added, “He can talk about military weapons for forever.”

Steve’s shoulders seemed to slump slightly at that. “Oh, um… Probably. I mean. He died a few years ago.”

“Oh, dude. I’m sorry.”

“My ma tries to hide it from me,” Steve said, shaking his head, “but I know we don’t have a lot of money. It’s why we live at the hotel and she still has a second job working at the hospitals.”

Tony couldn’t hold himself back from asking, “You live _here_? That’s so cool.”

Steve looked at him briefly, his mouth turning up slightly. “Yeah, I guess. Sure beats living at the old motel we were at when I was nine.”

“Motel? What’s that?”

“What’s a –? It’s a – I mean, it’s like a hotel, but sorta smaller.” A smile spread across Steve’s face. “My friend Bucky taught me how to ride a bike in that motel parking lot, y’know. Good times.”

Tony twitched. “I wish I knew how to ride a bike.”

“You’ve _never_ ridden a bike?” Steve’s eyes went as wide as saucers when he turned to look at Tony. “Quit playing with me.”

Tony only shrugged, frowning slightly. “My mom and dad never have time, always busy with their… _everything_. Board meetings, charity galas. My butler Jarvis tried once, years ago, but he’s kind of old.”

An expression passed over Steve’s features that Tony couldn’t quite place. He caught a quiet “I can’t believe you have a butler” that Steve muttered under his breath. The two of them finished their ice cream cones in a companionable silence.

Suddenly, Steve jumped to his feet. He patted crumbs from his cargo shorts and reached one hand out for Tony to grab. “Come with me.”

Tony wiped his mouth with a napkin before he grasped Steve’s hand, brushing off the sharp spark that bit his skin at the contact. He hauled himself out of the booth with the assist from the shorter boy. “Where are we going?”

“My room. I’m going to grab my bike right quick, and then –”

“You are _so_ not going to get me on that bike, Steve.”

Steve tugged on his arm, grinning wider. “You scared, Tony?”

He took a breath, stiffening his upper lip. “ _No_. Stark men are made of iron. I’m not scared of anything.”

So, that was a lie. Very much a big, fat _lie_. There was one other thing Tony was scared of apart from his father – and that was potentially dying on a bicycle. (Imagine that on an obituary: _Anthony E. Stark, 11, impaled by a bicycle spoke._ What a way to go.) They had gone out to the back of the hotel, in a little road between the employee lot and the arena entrance. The mid-afternoon rush of cars and people outside had dwindled down significantly, so they weren’t bothering too many people along the street.

Steve’s hands fell to the handlebars and the underside of the bike seat, helping him keep balance of the two-wheeler. Tony could hear the blood pumping through his ears as he threw a leg over. “Are you ready?” Steve asked, his voice as jovial as ever.

Tony turned to see him with a wicked grin on his face, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. “You’re gonna shove me even if I said ‘no’,” he responded nervously, his knuckles going white as he gripped at the handlebars.

He teetered a bit when he placed the soles of his shoes on the foot pedals, feeling his stomach do flips. Steve was in his ear then, instructing him to pedal forward. They wobbled their way through the empty valet until Tony got the hang of it, pedaling so fast that Steve couldn’t keep up anymore.

“I’m doing it! Steve, look,” Tony said, whooping loudly. He let out an excited laugh, focusing hard to keep his balance.

“Tony – car!”

A soccer mom van was turning out of the employee lot ahead of him, and it was like the wires got crossed in his head. Tony panicked. “How – how do I stop!?”

Steve yelled, “Just turn!”

“That’s so easy for you to say!” Tony yelled back, wincing when the van honked at him repeatedly. His eyes zeroed-in on the handbrake, and he squeezed down on it so quick that it kicked up the bike and threw him off of it. Tony cursed when he hit the asphalt, hissing in pain as it registered on his knees and palms.

Steve let out a worried “Tony, are you okay?” that was greatly overshadowed by a sharp “Anthony!” that came from behind them.

Tony’s head whipped in the direction of the voice, feeling his blood run ice cold. There was a small group that had come out from the arena hosting the tech convention, among them both his mom and dad. Maria looked on with worry etched into her features, while Howard stormed towards them with a father’s dangerous thunder that never failed to paralyze Tony.

“Dad, I’m okay –”

“Get away from him!”

Howard wasn’t looking at him. Howard wasn’t looking at him because he was _glaring_ at Steve as he grabbed the small boy by the scruff of his neck, all but throwing him out of the way. Steve nearly tripped over his feet, barely catching himself before he fell on his butt.

“Sorry,” Steve gasped, eyes going wide in fear. “Sorry, sir, I tried to – it was an accident –”

Tony took a few moments to shake off the shock, wincing as he scrambled to put his feet under him. The harsh rips in his jeans and the beads of blood from his scraped palms were the least of his problems as he tried to put himself between his father and his friend.

“I have half a mind to _beat_ you, boy,” Howard threatened, poking a harsh finger into Steve’s chest. He advanced on him, almost foaming at the mouth. “You put my son in danger again and I’ll make sure –”

“Dad, leave him alone!” Tony rounded on his father, shoving his hands into his chest to push him away from Steve. Faint, bloody handprints showed up on Howard’s suit jacket. “He didn’t do anything!”

“ _Howard!_ ” Maria hissed, stepping forward. She tugged at her husband’s arm. “Howard, you’re drawing a crowd. Leave this be.”

“You’re right – we _should_.” Before Tony could even blink, Howard’s hand was curling around his bicep, vicelike. He roughly dragged him towards the back entrance of the hotel, parting the sea of people in the way. “We are _never_ staying here again.”

Tony tried pulling out of his father’s firm grip, craning his neck in a feeble attempt to catch sight of a head of blond hair. “What? Wait, it wasn’t his fault –”

“Don’t even _look_ at that boy, Anthony. We’re leaving.” And just like always, Howard Stark got his way.

Tony did eventually learn to ride a bike, when he grew up. At twenty-one, he also inherited the entirety of Stark Industries after the untimely deaths of his parents. He became the youngest CEO of a Fortune 500 company, continuing the legacy that his father had left behind. (Tony managed to fit tech conventions into his busy schedule sometimes. True to Howard’s word, the Starks never stepped foot into the MGM Grand again – that is until Tony’s purposeful check-ins during his Las Vegas stays, more out of spite than anything else.)

Along the same lines, Tony never saw Steve again, either. He didn’t even know his last name. The only things Tony had to remember the skinny, blond kid by were the light scars that formed on his knees from the fall. It wasn’t until he was twenty-five that he ever _thought_ about Steve again, ironically enough. Obadiah and Rhodey had taken him around Caesars Palace to celebrate his first Apogee Award win, when a brief look at the handsome restaurant manager reminded him of a particular set of blue eyes.

What pulled Tony immediately from his thoughts was the fucking ice-cold water that spilled all over his lap.

“I am _so_ sorry, Mr. Stark!” their young waiter yelped, grabbing the fallen water glasses from the table. “I don’t know what – that was totally my bad.”

Tony pushed off from the table, standing to let the excess water drip onto the floor. He waved off the teen, glancing at his nametag. “You’re fine, uh… Peter. No harm, no foul.”

“I – sorry – I’ll go grab – yeah.” Red-faced and clearly embarrassed, the brunet kid hurried off to the kitchens, most likely in search of spare towels.

It was a smallest of reprieves, but Tony was grateful enough that the three of them were amongst the last customers in the restaurant. The less people seeing him in this situation, the better. Reining in an exasperated sigh, Tony picked up his cloth napkin and started to swipe at the large damp spot on his dress slacks.

“Dab, don’t rub,” Obie advised, cutting through his wagyu ribeye without a care in the world. He forked the piece into his mouth before pointing the fork in Tony’s direction. “That’s Tom Ford, you’ll ruin the stitching.”

Rhodey’s mouth twisted in the way it usually did when he tried to hide a smirk. “Quick, Tony, hide behind your Apogee. Maybe it’ll distract people from thinking you’ve pissed yourself.”

“Eat shit, both of you,” Tony snapped in jest, earning twin laughs from his mentor and best friend. He moved to untuck his red button-up from his pants when heavier footsteps than Peter’s came up behind him.

“Gentlemen, I sincerely apologize about the water mishap. And, Mr. Stane, I’ve taken care of the bill myself. If there’s anything on our drink or dessert menu that you’d like, it’s on the house. Your waiter Peter is still fairly… new…”

“Never mind the kid. He looked like he almost shat himself. I think he learned his lesson.” Tony laughed slightly, smirking as he turned around to face the restaurant manager, who was objectively a tall, blond Adonis of a man. “That’s very generous of you, Mr…?”

“Rogers,” he responded with a kind smile, reaching out to shake Tony’s hand. “Steve Rogers, sir.”

When their hands met, both men reeled back from a sharp static shock. Tony looked back to make a snide remark, but it was like the words got lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth when he finally got a good look at the guy. His eyes were blue, like the Atlantic – and as piercing as they had been when they first met as children.

Tony never forgot Steve’s eyes, and the expression of recognition on Steve’s face told him that he never forgot Tony’s either.

A quick glance in the direction of the two other men still at the table had Steve breaking eye contact, clapping his hands together. “Right,” he started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Dessert, then? Cheesecake and crème brûlée?”

“To-go,” Obie said, squinting slightly at Steve.

“I’ll be right back.” Steve shared a forced smile, his eyes lingering on Tony for a second too long before he pivoted on his heel.

Tony sat down in his seat, feeling a little awestruck. _Of all the damn restaurants in Vegas…_

“Okay…” Rhodey leaned forward into the table, staring at Tony like he’d grown two heads. “Can you tell me what the _fuck_ just happened?”

Dismissively, Tony said, “It’s a – long story.”

His gaze flickered over Tony, but he didn’t push the topic. Rhodey’s eyes instead tracked the last couple sitting across the restaurant as they got up from their table.

After Peter returned with the desserts boxed and bagged, the three men stood to leave. Tony dug out a couple hundred-dollar bills from his wallet, folding them under one of the plates that the kid was likely to be cleaning up.

Tony handed off his award for Rhodey to hold as they approached the front of the restaurant, where Steve stood behind the reception desk. The blond nodded his thanks to Obadiah and Rhodey as they exited, his gaze immediately landing on Tony’s form. He stood a few paces in front of Steve, shirt untucked and hands shoved into his pockets, wearing a dumb grin on his face.

“Hi,” Tony said softly, meeting his gaze.

“Hi,” he replied, smiling back. It faltered slightly as he asked, “Did – did you forget something, or – ?”

“No! No, I was, um…”

Tony felt his cheeks burn slightly as he watched the expectant look on Steve’s face. There were so many things he wanted to ask, and he wasn’t sure how to start – how has he been? How did he end up at Caesars Palace? Why did he never leave Nevada? How was his mom doing? Was he single? Did he even swing his way?

“I remember you were… smaller,” Tony settled on saying, mentally kicking himself because _that was most definitely the way to go, good job, Tony_.

Thankfully, Steve laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, I shot up at the tail-end of high school. And you’re…” A smirk. “You have a beard.”

“It’s to hide the baby-face, sweet cheeks, trust me.”

“Aw well, I thought your baby-face was cute too.” Steve’s eyes held that same twinkle in them, like before. When Steve grinned and sent a wink in his direction, Tony had a feeling this particular trip to Vegas wasn’t going to be as boring as he initially thought.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: [Check out my linktree for tumblr, discord, and other socials!](https://linktr.ee/ralsbecket)


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